Christmas at The Burrow
by Nessa Meneldur
Summary: It's Christmas time, and our favourite three heroes have returned to the Burrow to celebrate the holiday. It's the day before Christmas, and all is going well until... someone looks at the clock... (Rated T, just to be safe)


_A/N: This little story was originally written as part of a Fanfic competition on one of the numerous MSN Groups I'm a member of. I had some spare time, and actually had fun writing it . Oh, and of course a thank-you to Roman for helping me with the short song parody._

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or settings included in this story - they are the property of J. K. Rowling. Coincedently, I don't even own the holiday... funny that.**

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The lead up to Christmas at the Burrow was always more hectic than a beehive. Mrs. Weasley could always be found in the kitchen, alternating between humming cheerfully to herself and bellowing at either Fred or George - usually both. Mr. Weasley would always work late at the Ministry on Christmas Eve, since Christmas was guaranteed to be a trouble-spot. As for the rest - the four at Hogwarts would come home most years, and Bill and Charlie always managed to take a quick breather from work to spend the holiday with the rest of the family. Percy had since moved out, unable to deal with living in the same house as his father, although he had made a vague promise to return for Christmas.  
This year was going to be one to remember - not only were all the Weasleys going to be at the Burrow, but Harry and Hermione had been invited as well, and, rather than stay at school, the two had accepted.  
The day before Christmas, and they were all happily decorating the modest house.  
"**On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me.. a Niffler in a yew tree!**" George carolled at the top of his lungs, energetically waving his wand and creating more havoc than help.  
Ginny groaned. "George, you don't have a true love," she began, trying desperately to stem the tide, but Fred picked up where his twin had left off.  
"On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me... two Hippogriffs, and a Niffler in a yew tree!"  
"That's it, I give up!" Ginny cried, throwing her hands into the air and turning to a surprised Hermione. "They sing this song every... single... year... without fail - they could at least try a new one!"  
Hermione giggled, and patted Ginny's shoulder comfortingly.  
"At least they get into the spirit," she said, trying to cheer her friend up.  
"Hey, Gin, we thought of a new song for you," George announced, magicking some small sparkles around the room. He saw Ginny eye him dubiously, and he grinned. "It's true, isn't it Fred?"  
"Oh, yes indeedy. Never a truer word spoken," Fred affirmed eagerly, nodding enthusiastically.  
"Shall we perform it then, dear brother?"  
"Oh, definitely!"  
Fred and George both leaped for the table, conveniently trampling some unhung decorations.  
"Fred, George!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked from the kitchen. "Get down this minute... this minute, do you hear!"  
"Of course we do, Mum," they chorused back, grinning. "But we have to sing our song first," George finished, stepping forwards and clearing his throat importantly.  
_"Dashing through the snow,  
In a one-threstral drawn sleigh,  
O'er the grounds we go,  
Snick'ring all the way!  
Snowballing down Hogsmeade,  
Looking for a pint,  
With Butterbeer and lots of cheer,  
We're getting drunk tonight!  
Oh! Slytherin sucks, total... "  
_"Aww, Fred, George," Ginny said, giggling slightly, "no more, please!"  
George cut off and grinned down at his sister. "What, don't you like our song?" he asked, speaking over the top of Fred's continued singing.  
"It's not your song that's the problem," Hermione joined in, laughing, "it's your _singing_!"  
Ginny nodded agreement and began to laugh helplessly as Fred trailed off and adopted a hurt expression.  
"We're not that bad, surely," he said, widening his eyes.  
"Professor Snape can sing better than you two," Ron announced, walking into the room with Harry behind him, both grinning widely.  
Hermione and Ginny collapsed into nearby chairs, giggling, as Fred and George began to argue the aesthetic pleasures of their singing voices, and Mrs. Weasley bustled in to see what was going on.  
"Now, boys," she began, cutting off the twins before they could launch into a full length explanation, a slightly mischievous smile on her face, "you know the others are right…"  
The twins wilted, staring at their mother. "Fine," they said, crossing their arms. "We'll just sit right here and not move a muscle to help," Fred finished, the pair trying to look innocent and hurt, but failing miserably.  
"Of course," Mrs. Weasley replied, clearing unworried by their statement, and returned to the kitchen, absently humming 'Jingle Bells' under her breath.  
"Where _have_ you two been?" Hermione demanded of Ron and Harry. "We've been decorating for hours while you two were out playing Quidditch, I suppose."  
"No, we weren't," Ron replied, wrinkling his nose slightly at Hermione. "We were, er... wrapping up the last of the presents. Weren't we, Harry?"  
"Oh yeah, absolutely," Harry agreed quickly, bobbing his head. "In fact, we should, er... fetch them down!"  
Moving swiftly, the two went bounding up the stairs, racing each other to the top.  
"Honestly," Hermione muttered, shaking her head, "boys are so immature. Right Ginny, what's next?" she asked briskly, turning to face the girl. "Ah... Ginny? What's the matter?"  
Ginny pointed across the room mutely, her finger shaking ever so slightly. Hermione turned her gaze to follow its path, frowning slightly, and her eyes widened as she looked finally at the clock.  
"Merlin," she breathed, before bolting for the kitchen, Ginny hot on her heels.  
"Mum! Mum!" Ginny called as they skidded through the doorway.  
"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked absently, peering down the sink.  
"Oh, Mum... it's, it's... " Ginny froze, unable to continue.  
"It's Mr. Weasley," Hermione picked up softly, twisting her fingers together and staring at the floor. "The clock says he's in trouble!"

- - - - - -

"Mum, come on, just breathe," Bill coaxed, gently helping his slightly hysterical mother to a seat.  
Bill and Charlie had just arrived by Floo powder, a change of plans on the way they'd originally going to be arriving, due to the nasty blizzard building up around central London.  
"Look, just sit here, and I'll get in contact with the Ministry and check on Dad."  
Mrs.Weasley nodded silently and collapsed into the chair, fanning herself frantically.  
"We need Percy," Charlie muttered to his brother as he passed, "he's the only one who's ever been able to calm Mum down without Dad around."  
A slight tightening around Bill's eyes was the only outward indication he gave of his disapproval of Percy.  
"Be that as it may," he replied softly, "I honestly don't think he'll show, regardless of his promise. You know how stubborn Percy can get."  
Charlie shrugged and nodded - the whole _family_ knew how stubborn Percy was, he'd gotten more than his fair share. Looking about the room, he stared at the glum faces – Ron was talking very softly to Harry, clearly worried by the way his brow was wrinkled and his skin seemed paler than usual. Hermione was distracting Ginny from thinking about their father by charming various decorations to sing Christmas carols. As for the twins – they were being unusually well-behaved, sitting on the ground near Ron and Harry, merely listening to the goings on. Sighing, he decided that they'd be fine and he trailed into the kitchen after Bill, only to find him practically turning the place upside down, cursing quietly.  
"Hey, that's not like you, Bill," Charlie said, striding in and looking up slightly as his taller brother. "What _are_ you looking for, anyway?"  
"The dratted Floo powder," the normally easy-going Bill replied, flipping a saucepan over and growling as water and peas sprayed everywhere.  
"Let's look at this logically, shall we? Where did Mum and Dad _used_ to keep the Floo powder?"  
Bill froze and stared at his brother. "The flowerpot," he said, rolling his eyes and hitting his forehead lightly. Striding across the room to the kitchen mantelpiece, he took down the flowerpot there and peered inside. "As always, running low," he murmured absently, and threw a handful into the fireplace, kneeling on the floor as the flames shot high and turned a deep emerald green. Taking a breath, Bill stuck his head into the flames and called, "Ministry of Magic!"  
Freakishly, he could feel his head spinning 'round and 'round, while the rest of him remained firmly on the ground, the coldness from the floor slowly seeping through his warm trousers. Feeling as though he might fall forwards, as one tends to do when dizzy, the spinning suddenly stopped and Bill opened his eyes, blinking rapidly.  
"To whom to you wish to speak, and what department?" a bored-looking witch asked him, her feet casually flung up onto a desk, and an emery board in hand.  
"Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office," Bill said clearly, and grinned fractionally as the witch groaned and hauled herself to her feet.  
"One moment, please," she said ungraciously, and disappeared from view. Bill could hear her talking somewhere not too far away, and presumed she was checking up on his father. Suddenly, she returned into his view.  
"Apologies, but Arthur Weasley is not in his office," she informed him, sitting down and looking slightly pleased that she wouldn't have to do any more work.  
Bill felt a jolt of panic run through his stomach, a curious sensation to say the least. "Not in his office?" he repeated. "Where is he then? I'm his son," he added quickly as the witch frowned and opened her mouth to argue with him. Her expression clearly slightly, she then shrugged.  
"Don't really know, to be honest," she said lazily, sticking her feet back up on the desk. "He left early this afternoon, to fix some confuffle over Portsmouth way, and hasn't been back since. Prob'ly still there."  
"Oh…thanks," Bill muttered, closing his eyes and wrenching his head back out of the flames.

"Any news?" Charlie asked urgently, watching his brother tilted his head from side-to-side.  
"Merlin, I hate that," Bill muttered, running his fingers over his neck, as if to check that his head really was attached, "I always feel funny afterwards." Sighing, he dropped his hands to his side and looked at Charlie, shaking his head. "They haven't seen him since early this afternoon when he went out on a job," he muttered, twitching his shoulders. Glancing towards the door, he sighed again. "Should we tell Mum?"  
"I guess so…after you!"  
Bill glared at his brother. "Why me? You could tell her yourself."  
"Ah yes, but, er…you've heard it, ah…first hand, that's it. Better to hear it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak."  
"Liar – you're just a chicken," Bill accused Charlie as he rose to his feet, wincing slightly as his circulation began to flow properly and gave him pins-and-needles in his feet. "You face dragons every day, for goodness sake – why me?"  
Charlie grimaced slightly as they headed out of the kitchen. "Bill, trust me – a dragon has _nothing_ on our mother!"

- - - - - - -

Fred glanced about the room, tapping his fingers softly against the floor. He didn't want to become a nuisance, per say, but he was getting _very_ bored. Mentally grumbling, he rose to his feet and almost bounded over to the Wizard Wireless radio, full of too much pent-up energy. Flicking the switch, he rolled his eyes as the last part of a Celestina Warbeck song played, and then pouted when the news came on. Sighing loudly, he flopped into the nearest chair, propping his chin in his hand and staring blankly at the radio.  
"_And onto more news – down in Portsmouth,_" the crackling voice began importantly, "_the frozen form of what is believed to be a wizard has been pulled from a sno-…_"  
Fred snapped the radio off again – boring, boring, and more boring. He jiggled his legs impatiently, wanting something to do. Trying desperately to catch his twin's eye, he scowled lightly as George continued to stare determinedly at the floor. Fingers picking restlessly against the material of the chair arm, he twisted his lips to one side, thinking intently of something inherently amusing he could do, just to try and raise everyone's spirits somewhat. Bounding up out of his chair, he began to zoom around the room, needing to get rid of some energy.  
Just at that point, Bill and Charlie entered, and watched with amusement as their tall younger brother scooted about the room. "Really elegant, Fred – very befitting," Charlie commented, moving away from Bill and sitting on the chair nearest the radio. Bill frowned at him slightly, before almost cautiously walking over to his mother and kneeling in front of, gently touching her hand.  
"Mum, I got in touch with the Ministry – Dad wasn't in his office. Apparently, he went out to some job down in Portsmouth earlier this afternoon, and he hasn't been back since…"  
Mrs. Weasley only nodded numbly, her eyes fixed on an empty part of the wall. Fred, on the other hand, came to an absolute stand-still, and stared at Bill.  
"Portsmouth?" he asked, his eyes widening slightly. Diving for the radio, he flicked it back on and said clearly, "Replay the last fifteen minutes." Ignoring the bewildered stares from the rest of his family, Fred tensely listened through the last part of the same Celestina Warbeck song, and held up his hand as the news began to replay.  
"_And onto more news – down in Portsmouth, the frozen form of what is believed to be a wizard has been pulled from a snow-pile after an emergency Floo call to the rescue services. As yet, no detailed description has been obtained, but from the current statement released, he appears to have bright red hair. And that's the end of the-…_"  
Fred turned the radio off and stared at it for numerous moments, barely moving. Slowly, he turned to the family, a look of dumb shock on his pale face. Silence ruled the room for five minutes, the tension mounting, until Ginny suddenly and quite unexpectedly burst into tears, sobbing loudly. Hermione froze momentarily, before patting Ginny's back comfortingly, wrapping an arm around the girl. Bill strode across the room, and knelt in front of Ginny, putting his arms about her as well.  
"It's alright, Gin," he murmured soothingly, rocking her back and forth, and meeting Hermione's eyes over the top of the sobbing girl's head. Hermione nodded slightly, taking his silent hint, and slipped away, moving softly over to Mrs. Weasley.  
"Are you okay?" she asked softly, knowing it was a foolish question to ask, but not being able to think of anything better to ask. Slowly, almost freakishly slow, Mrs. Weasley lifted her gaze to Hermione, her face completely drained of colour, her vibrant red hair making her seem even paler.  
"What was that, Hermione?" she asked softly, as though in a dream. "Oh…the turkey's cooked…right, I see…" She drifted up out of her seat and made her way slowly to the kitchen, muttering something about Arthur liking the turkey to be well-done.  
Hermione blinked and turned, raising her eyebrows. "She's in shock," she murmured, stating the obvious. "Maybe we should just…leave her alone for a while…" Sinking to the floor near Harry and Ron, she curled her legs up and looked thoughtful, obviously trying to work out the best way to handle the situation.  
Ron looked blankly at Harry as the twins left the room, not even noticing their sudden departure. "Harry, do you--…" he began, before swallowing, and trying again. "Do you honestly think it was Dad that they f-found?"  
Harry shrugged, and awkwardly patted Ron's shoulder. "I dunno," he said, feeling useless. "There's no way to know for certain, is there?"  
Glumly, they all fell into silence, and stared at the real clock on the mantelpiece, watching the minutes tick by slowly. Minutes began to stretch out into hours, and everyone jumped when the clock suddenly struck 12 o'clock – Mrs. Weasley had been wandering aimlessly and harmlessly about the kitchen, while the rest of the house hold had slowly filtered back into the main living room.  
"Midnight," Ginny whispered, still wrapped in Bill's arms - her normally pale face was slightly blotchy from crying, and her eyes were red and bloodshot. "It's Christmas Day, and Dad isn't home yet…" Quietly, she began sobbing again, Bill wordlessly pulling her closer and rocking her slightly.

"Well now, what's all the misery about?" a confused voice asked, coming from the doorway. Everyone's head shot around, and they stared uncomprehendingly for a few minutes at the familiar figure standing in the doorway. At that moment, Mrs. Weasley came floating in from the kitchen, and she halted the instance she spotted the man there. Bursting into tears, she flew towards him and flung her arms about his neck.  
"Oh, Arthur, they said you were dead!" she cried, sobbing hard. "They…they, they…"  
"Yes, calm down, Molly, everything's fine," Mr. Weasley said soothingly, rubbing her back in slow, circular motions. "I expect you heard this from the radio, yes?" he half-asked, glancing about the room, and receiving eight slightly-stunned nods in return. "Ah yes…well, they didn't have a full report when they first aired that. Yes, I _was_ in Portsmouth, and yes they _did_ pull a frozen man out of the snow, but…well, obviously it wasn't me. The man wasn't even a wizard," he added gently. "Even I don't know the full story, but I believe he was homeless, and was merely trying to find some shelter over the Christmas season – I guess it didn't do him much good," he said, softly and sorrowfully.  
"But, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said, piping up, "the clock said you were in danger." She pointed at the special clock, where all the faces were now pointing merrily at 'Home' – except for Percy's, which was no longer attached.  
He nodded and smiled. "There's always a slight risk when we go out to fix some problem, although generally the sort of people that cast charms on Muggle artefacts are pranksters, and only looking for a little bit of fun. This time, however, the man was serious – he had his wand out, threatening anyone who came within twenty feet of him. It's taken us all this time to calm him down, and get him to St. Mungo's – I'm just glad that nothing happened. So," he continued jovially, rubbing his hands together as his wife let go and stepped backwards, "any suggestion on what we should do now?"  
"Oh, we have one, Dad," George said quickly, elbowing Fred, who sat up immediately and nodded eagerly. Mr. Weasley grinned and nodded, gently guiding Mrs. Weasley to a seat, and taking the chair next to him. The twins hopped up quickly and glanced around, smiling as innocently as possible, before launching up onto the nearest table and beginning to sing.

_On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…

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End file.
